Of Breakfast and Hickeys
by PuckabrinaLuva Shanji
Summary: ' She thought about calling out to him, wanting to see his reaction to her standing there, but decided against it. After all, for all the hard work she's done, she deserves a moment with the still unaware, half-naked Doug as he does something she'd never have expected in their earlier times together. ' A short, yet sweet moment between Doug and Carol, early season 4.


**AN: Hey guys! Since people actually read the last story I wrote, I decided to write another Doug/Carol fanfic, and though I don't think it's as good as the last one, I think you'll like it. It's a short moment in the morning between ER's most famous couple. Sorry if it's not as good as you thought, because I am way less obsessed with them now then when I wrote 'Of Doctors and Exes', but I thought this had to be done. Enjoy!**

The first thing Carol Hathaway noticed when she woke up was a slight coldness covering her bare legs and how she should've have opted for wearing something warmer for sleeping.

The second thing she noticed was that it was her day off, and the welcome thought made her smile and snuggle deeper into her bed covers.

The third thing she noticed was that she was the only one in her bed.

Not that she wasn't used to it, but after the very pleasing events of the night before, she'd expected another presence in the now half sunlit room.

Pushing herself off the bed with a dramatic sigh, she stumbled to her closet and searched blindly for a pair of sweatpants, put them on, and then plopped on the bed.

After yawning and trying to shake the initial sleepiness away, her mind started to wander. Where was Doug anyway? Considering the busy schedule he's had for the past couple days, she'd expected him to be passed out and refusing to wake till noon.

Rubbing at her eyes, she slightly jumped after hearing some banging downstairs.

She rose again, this time taking her bedside lamp with her, and slowly climbed down the stairs, lamp still poised in striking position. Just as she reached the kitchen, where the noise was still heard, though muffled now, she suddenly dropped her offensive stance.

Standing in her kitchen, with his bare back to her and towards the stove, was none other than the man who had been invading her earlier thoughts. As her lamp hung off her hand, and she rolled her eyes in annoyance and affection, and crossed her arms before inspecting the curious situation in front of her.

Doug Ross, the man who had spent years bedding bombshells and models, was as narcissistic as he was passionate, and who normally would've been out the door at this point, was hustling in her kitchen, using her utensils, to make her homemade breakfast.

The thought both got a wide grin to her face and a special softness she usually only reserved for his eyes only. Her eyes trailed his back muscles, and arms as they haphazardly reached around for things she would normally keep very organized. Considering the delicious smell that filled her nose, she guessed he was making an omelet of some sort.

She thought about calling out to him, wanting to see his reaction to her standing there, but decided against it. After all, for all the hard work she's done, she deserves a moment with the still unaware, half-naked Doug as he does something she'd never have expected in their earlier times together.

However, her wandering eyes came to a sudden stop when the man in question places the omelet in a plate and turns around, widening his eyes as he took in her presence.

"Carol!" Doug exclaimed in slight surprise with a large smile on his face. "Didn't know you were up."

Carol returned his smile and took a few steps forward, her eyes never leaving his. "Well, I guess it's a habit you know, from all the early shifts. It's like a mental alarm that goes off, no matter how little sleep I've had." She says, her voice teasing.

Doug continues to widen his grin as he takes the spatula and wipes it off with a washcloth that's set on the counter. "And I wonder who's fault that is." He then turns around, grabbing two plates that are next to the stove, and walks up to the table and sets them down.

(She realizes he's wearing sweatpants that are hung low on his waist, and she unashamedly let's her gaze trace his body once more, even though she can almost feel his ego radiating from a few feet away.)

"It's good that you're up, though. It's easier for me if I don't have to drag you out of bed."

Carol snorts as she sits down on a chair, pulling one of the plates her way. "Funny, because usually you're the one who drags me onto it."

He looks at her curiously for a couple seconds, then gestures to the bedside lamp still in her hand. "Do I need to know?"

Carol snaps her eyes back up to Doug's face, then looks at the lamp in her hand. She gives a sheepish smile, and sets it on the table. "No, no you don't."

Doug smirks, and runs a hand through his hair as he takes a seat next to Carol, not touching the other plate. She raises an eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to eat?" she says, taking a bite out of her breakfast.

"I wanted to see if you thought it tasted good. You know, so I wouldn't have to eat it if it didn't."

Carol smacked his arm, the corners of her lips pulling up into a smile.

As Doug too started to east his omelet, Carol reveled in the warmth of the food down her throat, and the rare peace they were experiencing at the moment. Feeling Doug's eyes follow her, Carol looked up to see an empty plate and a smirking gaze that made something in her flutter, like she was some kind of a teenager.

"What?" she inquired, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Doug smirked and cleared his throat. "Oh, nothing, Miss Hathaway. I was just looking at something I haven't noticed before."

Carol raised both her eyebrows, willing him to continue his answer.

Doug crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

(His gaze is intense, playful, and loving all at the same time, and she wonders how she even had the will to say no to him for all those years.)

"What I mean to say is, hickeys suit you very, very much."

She doesn't hesitate in looking down at her shoulders and chest, just now noticing the hues of blue and purple that are checkered all over, giving rise to steamy memories that she tried to subdue as she reminds herself she's eating breakfast, and he knows what game he's playing.

That's when she decides she wants to play along.

"Oh, these? I hardly remember where I got them, actually. There are just so many memories, that everything get's bit mixed up really."

Doug's smirk is just a little smaller than it was before, and his gaze shifts slightly to something she's very familiar with.

"Well, Miss Hathaway, I'm sure I can do the best I can to help you…retrace your footsteps. After all," he pauses and leans in towards her a bit, and lowers his voice. "I, of all people know how…curious you can get."

She feels some of the earlier butterflies resurfacing in her stomach, and she sort of-but not really hates what he does to her.

"You're right of course. I can't always contain my need to be curious, and I guess retracing my steps would help, since exploration is so much more enjoyable with company, even though I don't mind doing it on my own." She tries to be as nonchalant and teasing as possible, and manages to keep a straight face.

(The way he's looking at her right now almost makes her forget what she was planning to do in the first place.)

(There's another feeling in her lower region, but this time it isn't butterflies.)

Needless to say, their banter was short-lived.

With the little coherent thought she has left, she realizes this game has no losers.

(It's not like she was winning anyways.)


End file.
